


Dear Sailor

by thecookiemomma



Series: Nita and Her Sailor [1]
Category: JAG, NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Epistolary, F/M, Female Tony DiNozzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 11:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15412443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: Toni remembers a few things from finishing school.  She uses them once in a while.





	Dear Sailor

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Lover](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845418) by [Greysgate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greysgate/pseuds/Greysgate). 



> I was inspired by two works. Firstly, the lovely [ Bounce Back ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709817) by darkseraphina that introduced me to a ship I didn't know I needed. Secondly, the stunning piece, [The Lover](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845418) by Greysgate that was an epistolary wooing and couldn't get out of my head. Therefore, I present to you, Smart!Toni, PrepSchool!Toni and her Sailor.
> 
> If the tone of Toni's letters sounds a bit unlike her, it's because she intentionally has avoided sounding like a rich, well-educated swooning heroine, but she can. Part of it was the easiest way to get the words out, and part of it is to hide her identity. As usual. Enjoy.

 

 

 

Antonia Elizabeth DiNozzo had attended a finishing school. She learned how to dress, walk, talk, and then promptly threw much of that away. She lost her chance to go pro as a tennis star when she tore a shoulder ligament in college.

 After wiping her eyes and fixing her mascara, she pulled on a pair of dress slacks, and decided to become a cop.   People never expected the well-raised woman, so she was perfect for undercover.  She’d had to do a couple “honeypot” assignments, but after a while, she told her supervisors “hell, no,” and they contented themselves with her own _style_ which was a combination of bored mistress and annoying debutante.  The Hell of it was that it worked.

 She wound her way through three police departments, cleaning out the corruption and raising solve rates as she went.  Then, she tackled a gray-haired Marine and her life took another turn.  Other than when she was in a role, Toni rarely used the skills she’d learned at the Catherine Laniston School for Girls.  Then, she met him.  She fell for him hard.  The first time she saw the man in dress whites, she had to stop herself from swooning or fanning herself like a lovestruck teenager.  And, since he wouldn’t leave her mind, she started writing him letters.  She bought some stationery, cream, with blue trim, proper for a man of his station.  She started pulling out her calligraphy skills and the practice she’d had corresponding with those of her station and higher and set to work.  When she finished her paperwork, she’d pull out one of the soft, rich papers and her calligraphy pen.   She wasn’t old-school enough to use the separate ink, though she’d been trained in that as well.  

After being chained to a serial killer and nearly dying from his knife, Toni finished her paperwork and pulled out the paper. 

_Sailor,_

_“No captain can do wrong if he places his ship alongside that of the enemy.” – Lord Nelson_

_I did that this week. I nearly paid the ultimate price, but the enemy was subdued._   She wrote those words with a fierceness to the curl on the letters that showed her pride, her exhaustion, and her annoyance at the situation.  Madame Martin had said that this was therapeutic, but she hadn’t believed her.  Until now.  _We are all fine, though I have no desire to repeat the experience.  I remembered a few tricks that kept me from succumbing – in more ways than one, I admit._

_It would have been heavenly to have a brave sailor sail in to rescue me, sweep me off my feet, and eliminate the threat for me, but alas, I am a big girl, and so I rescued myself._

_I think of you often, my Sailor, my knight in white armor, defending our world from those things that try to sneak in and weaken us from within.  Carry on, sir, and with pride._

_Yours,_

_Nita._   She signed her name with the diminutive that her mother had given her. No one else in the world called her Nita.  Everyone called her Annie, or Toni, or Tonia. For a stretch in college, she went by Liz.  But here, in this secret space, she was _Nita._   Daughter of Claire.   High-society born and raised. 

She slid the paper inside the matching envelope, addressed it with his name in a whimsy, and in another flight, sprayed a tiny bit of her perfume on it so there would be no mistake that it was a personal letter. 

When they got caught up with the next case, Toni didn’t even notice it was gone.  

*  *  *

As she sat at home recovering from the _goddammed_ plague, she felt the urge again.  She didn’t have her supplies, having left them at work, so she texted Ducky.  _Need the blue flowered box in my second desk drawer. Not work related._   Ducky happily grabbed it for her, not asking any questions for once.  She sighed and decided to show him.

“Antonia, what a lovely collection.  If you feel the need, dear girl, feel free to send me a note or two.  I would love to carry on a correspondence with someone who understands.”  She blushed, her guards down from being so weak, and agreed, mentally adding the old ME to her list of recipients. 

“I will, Ducky.”  She solemnly agreed. 

“Very well. Rest, Antonia, don’t let even this pastime take too much of your energy.”  He chivvied her a little more and then left, whistling. 

She chuckled, regretting it as she coughed again, and propped herself up at the table to write her sailor. 

_Sailor,_

_Nimitz said,” God grant me the courage not to give up on what is right even though I think it is hopeless.”   Today, that quote rings inside my head and rattles around like a loose wrench onboard.  I cling to life and breath, struggling every moment to recover and regain my place. I am tired. It would be easy to lay down and let ‘the bastard win,’ but I shall not._

_I do not know that I would do well were you here, seeing my weakness and knowing my shame.  I should have known better; I should have followed letter, rather than spirit.  This letter may be shorter than others, for I have naught left to give, except these few words.  Tomorrow is another day, and I wait to reach it._

_I do have a moment of schadenfreude knowing that she who brought me low will face you.   I can envision your handsome face as you tear her into constituent parts for being an idiot.  She is compromised by her health; however, her choices are still her own.  Feel no shame in sharpening your verbal blade, sir._

_I shall return to my rest._

_Yours,_

_Nita._    Toni put her pen down, slid the paper into the already-addressed envelope, and fell asleep.  When she woke up, the envelope was gone, and Gibbs was pushing soup into her. 

 

*  *  *

Toni found herself stepping out to get a fine black dress appropriate for a funeral.  She pasted on the same blank face she’d worn when her mum had died and accepted the sympathy of the well-meaning store clerks who understood exactly why Antonia DiNozzo was buying a black, sedate dress. 

On the flight home from Indiana, having known she would need some space from her coworkers, she pulled out a small clutch with the supplies and began writing.  Abby exclaimed over her pretty paper but left her to write in peace.  Gibbs glanced over, saw her stoic mask, pursed his lips, and returned to the conversation with the director and Ducky. 

She bent over her work, hiding her words from prying eyes. 

_Sailor,_

_Sam Houston once said that “_ _We are poor, feeble, and blind mortals when the eye of the Almighty looks through all worlds and by his power executes all things aright, and by his grace, he makes us all rich in Heavenly Gifts. In distress and in bereavements, we can look only to him. From mortals like ourselves we can derive no help.”  I read that somewhere this week, and I cannot help but wonder if it was written to me.  I am without help, bereaved.  My sister-in-arms is gone.  No longer will we compare notes about school, make jokes about the male members of our team, commiserate with our sisters when …_  Toni paused, uncaring that her mascara was running, but wanting to protect her paper from the mess.  Abby handed her a tissue and Toni wiped her eyes before continuing. 

… _we encounter those more boorish of men and their childish antics.  Though your own good name has never come up, sir.  Naturally not.  I have not even mentioned your name as one who is above such behavior for fear my heart would be exposed.  I often wish I could know you better than I do.  But your station is by far grander than my own, and it might make things difficult for us both.  Please, if you can spare a thought to me in my misery, even to wish sunlight and fewer storms, I would welcome it.  Though you may not know who I am, even the thought of your smile warms my heart._

_Forgive me for the forwardness, sir, my heart is broken._

_Yours still,_

_Nita._

She folded it up, addressed it, and slid it back into her purse with her papers and pens.  When she pulled out her supplies later, it was gone. 

*  *  *

Admiral Albert Jethro Chegwidden sat at his desk, looking over his docket. There were several cases up for the day, one of which made him snarl in rage.  He knew he had to be impartial, but there were moments he hated being the Judge and not the one in front of the judge, arguing his ass off for justice.  Sometimes, he envied Rabb. 

Tiner stepped into the room and looked awkward.  “What is it, Tiner?  Spit it out.”  

“Sir, this came for you. No return address. It looks … uh, personal, sir.” 

“It’s been checked?”  AJ knew there had been a few things that had slipped by recently, and he wanted to make sure it wasn’t one of those.

“Yes, sir. Radiated and blue lights, and everything. We didn’t open it, but it looked okay… It seemed to come through the inter-mail system, so I think it might be okay.” 

“Carry on, Tiner.”  AJ was intrigued.  After the exchange of salutes, he frowned, looked at the soft, expensive paper, and sniffed. There was a tiny hint of perfume.  He blinked.  Reaching inside his desk, he pulled out a letter opener and began to read.   She, whoever she was, used a Lord Nelson quote.  Every sailor knew at least one or two things about the famous man.  Also, she was a fierce woman.  Dealing with an enemy on her own, nearly dying in the process.  He shook his head, and sat it aside, not having the time to look up who _Nita_ might be in their mail system.   Nita sounded like a nickname, anyway. 

He went through his day with the scent of the perfume and the words of the letter in his mind. 

* * *

The second time it happened, he gazed at the letter and compared it to the other one. The handwriting appeared more precise and less flourished. When he read the contents, even not knowing who the woman was, his heart hurt.  She sounded like she was extremely ill.  Something in that rattled in his brain, especially when he had a case come up in front of him later, but in the jumble and rush, he forgot it.  

* * *

The third time, he just grabbed the letter and shooed Tiner out the door without asking for a salute.  The man saluted anyway, leaving him alone with the letter.  He cut it open and sighed.  A Sam Houston quote and a need for comfort.  Damn.  A couple other things started to stack up in his head and he scanned through the list. Instead of looking for “Nita,” he looked for people in his office or adjoining ones who had died in the line of duty.  There were three around the time she wrote the letter.  Only one was female.  Caitlin Todd.  She had been on Gibbs’ team.  Gibbs’ team also had another woman.   Antonia DiNozzo.  “Tiner!” He bellowed, drawing his aide-de-camp into the room.  “Get me everything on DiNozzo. The girl on Gibbs’ team.” 

“Is she in trouble, sir?”  Tiner wanted to know.

“No. And don’t mention this to anyone. It’s …” He paused.

“Ohhhh.”  Sometimes, the man was too damn smart.  “Right, sir. Got ya.”  He saluted and in moments, brought back her file.  AJ looked over it and sighed.  _Yeah, this was the right person._  

He had to think about this.  Maybe a response to the last letter.  He pulled out his own stationery and thanked his teacher in Annapolis for enforcing good handwriting.  He pursed his lips and began.

_Nita,_

_The loss of a comrade is always a difficult thing to experience.  The longer and tighter the connection, the more it bleeds when it tears free. My condolences on the loss of Agent Todd.  She will be missed._

_Reading through your other letters, I find a pattern.  For some reason, I have become your confidant.  I don’t understand why, but I find I don’t mind._   He chuckled a little at the unintentional rhyme. 

_Your team has had a rough year.  Come to think of it, it’s had a rough couple.  I wouldn’t mind being your confidant in person, though if you’d rather continue our correspondence this way, I have no complaints._

_From the tone of your letters, you never intended them to reach me. However, I have gotten three.  I wonder how many more you have written that wait, undelivered.  I wish I could read them, or better yet, get to know their sender. Not the airy, prep girl that you display to the world, but the deep, well-thought woman who knows to quote Nimitz and Nelson to get me to listen.  Your words came at a good time for me, encouraging me through tough days.   Do not blame whoever our mystery helper.  It is because of him or her that I learned of you._

_Accept these as a token of my interest and willingness to get to know you._

_Your sailor,_

_AJ_  

He took a break, walking down to the nearby flower shop.  He handed the florist the letter and asked for carnations in bright spring colors.   Then, butterflies flying in his stomach, he turned around and went back to work. 

 

*  *  *

When Toni got back to the bullpen, she saw the flowers.  Thinking they were from coworkers, she smiled sadly and looked at them for a good portion of the morning.  Then, she caught the stationery, and blinked. That didn’t look like a Hallmark sympathy card.  She opened it and her breath caught, making her cough again.  Gibbs got up and stared at her until she took a puff on her inhaler.  “Sorry boss,” she said, uncaring of Rule Six.  “Surprised me.” 

“Bout time,” Gibbs gestured to the flowers and the letter.

“You know…” She paused, and started looking all over her desk and in her things.  “Did you…”

“Wasn’t hard.”    She shook her head and read the letter.

“You’re lucky, Gibbs.”  She shook the letter at him. “It could’ve gone so badly.” 

“Wouldn’t’ve.” He shrugged. “Man’s a good guy. He’d’ve just said no.” 

“You banked a hell of a lot on that.” 

Gibbs grunted. 

Toni picked up her phone.  “Admiral Chegwidden at JAG, please.”  She waited.  “Sailor.”  She chuckled. “Thank you for the flowers.”  


End file.
